WE STRIKE INLAND 
then light their pipes and spin yarns, which, to judge 
by their uproarious laughter, must have been ex- 
tremely diverting. After the story-telling, they obliged 
us with songs, and the music wooed them again to a 
brief period of slumber. It did not woo us, for the 
coast natives have no ear, and their music is very 
unlike the soft and flowing song of the mountaineers. 
This performance went on until daybreak, when we 
rose. In order to make a satisfactory day’s journey 
it was necessary to start at 5 A.M. We had to prepare 
our own breakfast and give the natives theirs, and 
then we set out for Madui. 
Again, the path wound past high precipices and 
deep ravines until we came to our first resting-place, 
Bamboo Camp, so called from a clump of bamboo that 
formed a natural shelter. Here the forest trees were 
so high and thick that scarcely any sun or light could 
penetrate. It was gloomy in the extreme, and very 
depressing, the silence broken only by the drip, drip 
of the rain, and the only sound of life was the “ wauk,” 
‘“wauk” of the bird of paradise. 
For two hours the track skirted the Deeanay 
precipice, and our way led under enormous over- 
hanging boulders which would reach out some distance 
overhead. ‘These were the more impressive in that 
they seemed to have no hold, and the imagination 
made teasing suggestions as to what would happen if 
one of them were to topple over. From the crevices 
little springs issued, and in these damp nooks there 
was a luxuriant growth of lichens and begonias in 
flower. While accomplishing the long circumvention 
of the crags, it was impossible to obtain a view of 
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